


Flickers

by Myatsume



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gilderoy Lockhart - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Romance, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 08:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10408287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myatsume/pseuds/Myatsume
Summary: He was such an egomaniac. But somewhere along the way, you didn't mind as much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Joined recently and decided to start adding some of my old works to this site! I really like writing for egotistical characters, and when I was reading the second HP book, I bookmarked every part that mentioned Lockhart winking, which was a lot of parts, so that's why I made sure to carry that over to this.

You knew he was an egomaniac. You knew his books were complete and utter nonsense. You knew he was easily one of the most infuriating people you had ever met. But for some reason, you couldn’t help but care for him.

 

You were at some bar, and had made the mistake of semi-drunkenly talking a bit too loudly about your opinions and found yourself dragged out into the alleyway by a deranged man with his wand at your throat.

He had burst through a side door, his shout of “Expelliarmus!” resounding through the narrow alleyway, the man’s wand flung far away. And with that, he sauntered his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist before escorting you away, all the while chiding you of your “taste in company”.

And that was how you first met Gilderoy Lockhart.

You weren’t sure at the time, but now you figured that this act of bravery was most likely a result of him being fairly drunk, and his cowardice being temporarily overtaken in his drunken state by his constant need to impress.

 

He hadn’t gotten very far with you that night.

After hesitantly thanking him for helping you, all the while trying to shrug out of his grip, you took your leave to go home, though not without receiving a sloppy kiss on the cheek (he had tried for your mouth, but you weren’t about to let that happen) and a promise that he would come talk to you again.

 

Days went by, nearly a week, before you heard from him again. You had thought that your first encounter with the handsome stranger would be your last, a thought which proved, much to your chagrin, to be proven wrong.

He showed up at your house, and you still weren’t sure exactly how he found out who you were or where you lived.

“Gilderoy Lockhart!” he had proclaimed himself. “Glad to finally make your acquaintance!” he spoke, bringing your hand to his lips in a kiss. “I hope you have been well since my valiant rescue of you from that brutish ruffian in the alleyway!” he bragged, finishing it off with a roguish wink.

You had almost shut the door right in his face then and there, but a voice at the back of your mind had told you that you at least had to give him some form of thanks, seeing as he may have very well saved your life and all.

You reluctantly invited him in, to which he beamed at you and strode into your home, taking a wide sweep of your house before taking a seat in a chair close to your living room table.

“As I am sure this is a great honor, I can wait for you to procure your camera in order to take a photo of your miraculous meeting with Gilderoy Lockhart. I’ll even sign it for you, seeing as you’re a very charming young lady!” He grinned, giving you yet another flirty wink.

You were almost certain the look on your face was displaying intense disdain for the situation, but it did not seem to faze the man.

“Now, now, no need to be shocked, though I can understand perfectly why!” he added after observing your face.

By this point you were just hoping that smoke wasn’t coming out of your ears. As calmly as possible, you took a deep breath before uttering the words you had been trying to phrase as politely as possible. “Who are you?”

The man suddenly went quiet, blinking a few times in succession.

You felt a bit bad, despite how annoying the man had been. “I’m sorry… I don’t quite follow popular culture a lot and—”

This seemed to cheer him right up from his shocked state. Standing up, he made his way over to you, flashing you his winning (later you would find out, his Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award five years in a row) smile. “Why, I understand completely! You poor thing, you must be locked here day in and day out, to not have heard of me…”

At this point, you had decided to just keep quiet, instead letting him do the talking.

“I know what to do!” he suddenly announced, before taking your hand and leading you out of your house.

 

Walking down the street, you couldn’t help but notice as people (mostly women) turned to gawk at your companion, some even stopping to ask for an autograph, which he politely turned down, instead flashing a wide smile and telling them that he had very important business to attend to, which seemed to appease them enough to let you pass.

You had no idea what was going on, even as you approached what looked to be a large publishing company.

Striding into the building with you in tow trying to match his strides, Gilderoy marched all the way over to a desk near the back of the large room.

At that desk sat a middle-aged woman, who was busy reading over some papers, but as soon as she spotted your arrival, she stopped what she was doing and turned her full attention to you (or more specifically your charismatic companion).

“Why, Gilderoy!” she gushed. “What brings you here?”

“Hello, Mathilda,” he greeted. “I came to visit you because of this woman,” he said, gesturing to you before continuing. “Can you believe she has never heard of my works?” He finished good naturedly, as if it was a good joke.

“Oh my!” the woman, Mathilda, replied, turning her eyes to look at you. “What rock do you live under, dear? To never have heard of _the_ Gilderoy Lockhart?”

Gilderoy dismissed her comments with a simple wave of his hand. “It’s quite alright, Mathilda. I’m not _that_ well known. I just thought that I could bring her here and given her copies of my books,” he said, turning to give you a hearty wink. “Signed, of course!”

By now you felt like you had entered a parallel universe. Soon you had left the building, signed books in hand.

Gilderoy had insisted that he escort you home, but you refused as politely as you could manage before lugging the heavy load of books home.

 

Slamming the books onto your table, you rubbed your eyes, still not quite believing that what had just transpired was real.

With a yawn, you made your way to your bedroom, not to awake until the next morning, when a loud knock at your door startled you out of your sleep.

“Hello, (Name)?” Came Gilderoy’s voice, ringing through your home, as he had simply let himself in.

Spotting you coming out of your bedroom, he made his way over. “I came to check on how you’ve been enjoying my books, since I have been told that it’s hard to put them down once you start reading!”

Gulping at his eyes sparkling with pride, you did the only thing you felt you could. Smiling nervously, you replied, “oh yes, I started last night, it’s wonderful so far!”

You figured you could scan one of them once he left in case he came to bother you again, which after this second visit, was seeming very likely.

You mentally screamed as he inquired as to what your favorite part was so far. He didn’t even seem to notice your fake smile, nor did he question your telling him that it was all so great, it was too hard to choose. In fact, he seemed to act like all of this was a completely normal and an even expected reaction, which only served to irritate you further.

 

He had come around a lot more after that first visit to your home.

You had eventually picked up his books and begun to read them, since he didn’t show any signs of going away any time soon, you figured that you might as well know what he was talking about.

His books were actually pretty interesting, you had to admit. Interesting, though a bit far-fetched.

One day you had asked him if he had actually done all those things. And with a hearty wink and a beaming smile, he had assured you that not only had he, but he toned down the stories a bit because he didn’t want to be intimidating to his readers.

You didn’t buy it one bit.

 

As the months went by, you actually began to enjoy his company. He had a seemingly endless enthusiasm – even if was just concerning all the things he had done.

He was very good at selling his stories, which he sometimes liked to act out for you, or in some cases, with you.

 

It was a particularly nice day in spring when he decided to act out the tale of a time when he had to rescue a _fair maiden_ from the clutches of a six-headed mountain troll.

“And then I took the tree branch – aided only by my unwavering courage – and plunged it deep into the chest of the beast, puncturing its heart and ending its spree of darkness once and for all!” Gilderoy proudly told you, all the while acting out the motions of the story.

Though this particular time he had gotten especially bold as he made his way over to you.

“I made my way over to the maiden – mind you she was truly overcome with emotion – as she rushed past the corpse and over to me, saying –”

Gilderoy paused, staring down at you with an expectant smile, at which point you finally clued into your role for this particular story.

Not really remembering what exactly the _maiden_ had said, you decided just to wing it.

“Oh, fair knight,” you said, adding in a dramatic curtsey, “You have saved me!”

While you thought that you did badly, Gilderoy’s smile did not waver, and if anything, only grew, so you figured had had at least done something right.

Your thoughts were only confirmed when you were abruptly leant back, Gilderoy’s lips covering yours in a much unexpected kiss.

“Um…” you mumbled as he ended the kiss.

“Well, that last part didn’t actually happen in the book– the maiden was engaged to a prince from her lands – but I added it in for our little dramatization. It’s called improvisation, it’s nothing special, though I of course have been practicing it since I was a young lad, when I–”

Throughout his speech, you weren’t sure if he noticed your bright red face.

 

Weeks had gone by and he hadn’t kissed you again. You wondered if it was just a spur of the moment; if he wasn’t interested in you at all.

You were only given more time to think as he, with self-stated _great regret_ , informed you that he was to begin a book tour, followed closely by a teaching opportunity at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The news was bittersweet. At first you were happy to be free of his incessant bragging for a while, but then at the same time you found that you would miss it – miss him.

With a kiss to your hand, he was gone, though not without a promise to return as soon as he could.

 

The weeks went by, which were mostly dull, not much happening. You read some article about Gilderoy a week prior, written by some overly smitten witch. But as you noticed, most witches seemed to be smitten with the highly charismatic man. You had tossed the article in the garbage, though not before tossing a longing glance at the moving picture of the man you wanted to see so much, grinning and giving a wink towards the camera.

And then, like he hadn’t been gone for weeks, he turned up at your home.

He didn’t knock; he never had before, why start now?

“(Name)!” he called out, surprising you as you sat on the couch, reading a book. One of his books, to be precise.

 Spotting you, he marched over, taking a seat next to you, and very close at that.

“You will never believe it! Simply never!” he said, and continued to talk before you even had a chance to reply. “ _The_ Harry Potter came to my signing today! Well, I suppose it isn’t that hard to believe considering my fanbase extends to all, but you should’ve seen him as I pulled him up for a photo with me, starstruck surely. It’ll be the front cover for sure!”

He filled you in on all the exciting things he had done, stopping in the middle to greatly surprise you by actually asking you how you had been. At your assurance that nothing new had happened, he finally got to the part where he would be off teaching for a year.

You already knew he read facial expressions as well as he read ancient gnomish –not well, though if you said that to him, you knew he would insist that ancient gnomish was something he learned from a foreign prince he saved from great peril or something – so you kept quiet.

But this time, by luck or something else, he read past your smile and congratulations.

“I know of course, that you’ll miss me, which is to be expec–”

Except for once, you cut him off. Moving closer to him on the couch, you took his cheek with a hand, bringing his lips to yours.

If he was surprised, he sure didn’t show it much. For at most a second and a half, he simply sat there, not reacting.

After that, he raised a hand and brought it around to your back, pulling you closer to him as he leaned into the kiss.

For all the outrageous tales the man told, you were inclined to believe all the bragging he had done about the more intimate parts of his travels – in short, he was a fantastic kisser.

And for once, he didn’t ruin the moment by talking.

 

Soon after that interaction, Gilderoy set off to his teaching position at Hogwarts and you were left with your own thoughts.

The kissing had lasted for quite a while, until Gilderoy reluctantly had to part with you for another book club event, promising to send you letters while he was away teaching.

The letters had come in full force, and for everything that man was not, he was good with his words. He always had some form of praise in his letters, as well as entire pages dedicated to the starstruck reactions of his students and fellow teachers to his very presence, which to be completely honest you had already expected to be included in his letters.

Though through all your correspondence, he had not brought up any of his personal feelings towards you, beyond a tease or two about the kisses you had shared before he left.

 

You were working up the courage to ask him when you received a letter from Hogwarts.

Opening the letter, your excitement turned to curiosity and then turned to a cold dread.

The letter was addressed to you, but the difference in handwriting immediately gave you your answer as to the bad feeling spreading in your stomach.

_I am writing to inform you-_

Your frantic brain read through the letter as fast as you could, until your gaze froze on one sentence.

_-and unfortunately as a result, Gilderoy has lost his memory._

Shock and disbelief ran through you, and you began to wonder who would play a joke like this on you. Who would even know about you and Gilderoy–

_Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore._

As soon as you saw the signature at the end of the letter, you knew that it was useless to keep being in denial.

 

It took you two days to gather up the courage to find out exactly what happened to Gilderoy.

You had never met Dumbledore, but he seemed almost psychic in the construction of his letter. When you picked it up to read it that day, there was a section of the letter that you had somehow managed to miss.

Scrawled neatly on the back was a room number, followed by ‘Saint Mungo’s’, which just confirmed the seriousness of the situation.

Grabbing a coat, you quickly prepared yourself to go to visit Gilderoy, feeling terrible that you hadn’t done so earlier.

Feeling nervous as soon as you set foot in Saint Mungo’s, you made your way up to the floor Gilderoy was on.

Locating his ward with relative ease, you stood just outside the door, fighting with your nervousness. He wasn’t dead, you should be happy. Somehow the truth wasn’t looking any more appealing to you.

You were clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to calm yourself down. Staring at the floor, your nervousness prevented you from noticing the door in front of you open.

“Ah, Miss (Name)?”

You looked up, eyes meeting with a man collecting chocolate frog cards in your youth had prepared you to recognise as Albus Dumbledore.

You felt the need to say something, anything. “I got your letter.”

“So I see,” he replied softly, and a short silence stretched between you. “Well, I am glad to finally meet the woman Gilderoy spoke so highly of.”

You blinked owlishly at him, and he continued talking. “Ah… there was one day, I remember; it was Saint Valentine’s Day. Gilderoy came in here to _‘spread the Valentines cheer’_ I believe he said. He told me about a young woman in which he was involved with…”

You listened to Dumbledore, nodding dumbly until he finished.

“You wish to see him?”

Your gaze snapped up to meet his. “I don’t know what to do. I want to see him, but…”

Dumbledore smiled at you, gesturing towards the door he had just exited from. “You will find him still in a pleasant mood if you hurry.” And with that, he began to make his way to the exit, leaving you standing there, still hesitant.

Turning back once, he left you with a final, incomplete sentence. “Sometimes, when the mind wants to remember something badly enough…”

It was as if his words had magic intertwined with them, as they pushed you to finally open the door and walk into the ward.

The ward was quiet, with no nurses or other visitors in sight. That was, until the man you had come to see strode over to you.

“Another visitor? I sure am busy today!”

You saw no recognition in his eyes as he looked at you. You blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears from coming. You knew he lost his memory, but somehow you thought maybe, possibly… that he would still remember _you_.

You felt even closer to tears than before at the realization, but even more so at being stupid enough to think that there would be any chance that he–

“(Name)?”

Him uttering your name surprised not only you, but him as well.

His brows knitted momentarily, eyes meeting yours. “You… you look like a (Name),” he said slowly, before building confidence. “I’m right, aren’t I? Always had a way with–”

You nearly bowled him over by wrapping your arms around him in a hug you never thought you would experience again.

Right then, you swore to yourself that if there was any chance of him recovering his memories, you would visit him every day if that’s what it took.


End file.
